


A Turning of the Tide

by CatS81



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3833221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatS81/pseuds/CatS81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'A Time & a Place'; set during 'Limerick'.  Martin finally learns the truth about Douglas' marriage to Helena, and wonders how such a truth will impact on the events he witnessed between Carolyn and his First Officer in the Windsock Arms....</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Turning of the Tide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Linguini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguini/gifts).



> Disclaimer: ‘Cabin Pressure’ sadly does not belong to me – all characters were created, and rightly belong to, the amazing John Finnemore.
> 
> A/N: Hello wonderful fandot! So it appears that the lovely Linguini has talked me into writing a sequel to ‘A Time & A Place’ – I am therefore not entirely to blame for this monstrosity ;) This is set during ‘Limerick’, right after Douglas finally tells Martin the truth about Helena. As always, comments and criticisms would be most warmly welcomed – thank you very much for reading, and thank you even more for welcoming me into the fold!

The darkness had been strangely liberating, Douglas Richardson mused wryly into the rapidly expanding silence, acutely aware that the tension in the flight-deck was stretching towards a taut breaking point, and finding it in equal parts wickedly entertaining and intensely exasperating. His confession about the demise of his marriage had been somewhat unintentional, the muted lighting of the cockpit permitting an unusually personal conversation to unfold between himself and his Captain, and Douglas was now intrigued as to how the younger man would respond to its ramifications once the dust had settled in his anxious mind.

At his side Martin Crieff was wound as tightly as Douglas had ever seen him, the slender lines of his shoulders rigid with his obvious chagrin as the seconds continued to tick relentlessly by, neither man having presently spoken for close to a minute. Douglas inhaled slowly, calmly, utterly determined not to relieve the younger man of his conspicuous discomfiture and instead content to allow Martin to break the stalemate at a time of his own choosing, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as the Captain finally took a breath to speak.

“Douglas….”

The First Officer openly grinned as the younger man lapsed back into a frustrated silence and ran a hand through his auburn curls. “Lost for words, Martin?”

“I’m just…,” Martin tried again, before heaving a deep sigh. “I’m just trying to…fit it all together.”

“Ah; you’re trying to work out the timescales.”

The Captain’s mouth fell open. “I’m not! Honestly I’m not!”

“You’re wondering whether what you witnessed between myself and Carolyn pre-dated or post-dated what I’ve just told you about myself and Helena.”

“ _No_ , Douglas.”

“Oh, come on. _I_ would be, in your position.”

“Yes, well; I’m not you, am I?” Martin sighed shakily once more. “For one thing, I’ve spent the last five days trying _not_ to think about you and Carolyn….”

“I think I can safely say that the feeling is _entirely_ mutual.”

“…and for another….I’m….” He broke off anew before stoically rallying. “I’m actually trying to work out the best way to apologise, alright? And apologising to you is always a nightmare.”

Douglas raised his eyebrows in affected surprise. “Really?”

“Of course! You’re always so bloody smug….”

“Well, I think I’ve got just cause this time, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Martin grimaced in concession, his chiselled features contorting in the half-light. “Yes; you absolutely do.”

“And because of that indisputable fact, you should know that I’ve got no intention of letting you off the hook.” Douglas’ tone deep baritone was mocking. “Bad luck, Captain.”

The younger man frowned in discomfort, though his tone was edged with indignation. “I know I got it wrong, Douglas….”

“Oh, yes, you did. In spades.”

“…but can you blame me? I didn’t have all the facts, and I….”

“You self-righteously _assumed_ the facts, based on what you think you know about me.”

Martin shook his head. “All I thought I knew about you was that you were married. I _thought_ you were married….”

“Well, technically I still _am_ married, if that makes you feel any better.”

“…and then I walked in on you with someone who is most definitely _not_ your wife.”

“Not unless I’m also a secret bigamist; no.”

The younger man sighed. “So, it wasn’t a completely unreasonable assumption to make….was it?”

“What: that I was in the throes of a _passionate_ affair with my boss, whilst my _poor_ wife lived in blissful ignorance?”

“That’s all I could see, Douglas. I had no idea that Helena….”

“…was actually the one having the affair, and that I was in fact a loyal and dutiful husband?"

Martin pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes closed. “I couldn’t possibly have known that.”

“To say nothing of the fact that I was perfectly content _being_ that loyal and dutiful husband until Helena decided otherwise…and that I still _would_ be if I had any say in the matter.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” The First Officer barked a short laugh. “You sound surprised.”

“Well, no….Yes….” Martin threw up a hand in frustration. “God, I don’t know.”

“Succinctly put as always, Captain.”

“You just seem to have…moved on quickly, that’s all, and I….”

“Oh, do I, indeed?”

The Captain sighed softly. “Come on, Douglas. I saw the evidence of you _moving on_ with my own eyes, remember? Now that I know Helena was no longer in the picture….”

Douglas’ expression darkened dangerously. “You saw nothing of the kind.”

“Well, no; I didn’t realise it at the time but now I know that….”

“Now you see that your indignation was entirely unjustified, you mean.”

“It just gives it all a bit of a different slant.” Martin faltered suddenly, his words stammering uncertainly. “I…I mean, doesn’t it?”

“Well, let’s see: you started off by accusing me of having an affair,” Douglas drawled sardonically, continuing rapidly as Martin drew a breath to reply, “and now you’re accusing me of moving on with my life at a speed that you deem inappropriate.”

“No! I’m really not; I’m just trying to…get it all clear in my head.”

“Oh, _good_. You take your time.”

The younger man winced at his colleague’s acerbic tone, and he paused for a long moment, his mind apparently in turmoil as he silently considered his next question before allowing it to surface into the gloom. “So you’re…you’re effectively telling me that this….this _thing_ with Carolyn…isn’t serious, then?”

“ _Am_ I?”

“Well, if you…I mean, if you’d still be with Helena if you could be….”

“That’s got nothing to do with Carolyn.”

“So it _is_ serious?”

Douglas exhaled emphatically as the query caused a spectrum of emotion to cascade through his chest, his successive words deliberately evasive. “It is what it is, Martin.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Because there _is_ no answer to your question.”

“ _How_ isn’t there?”

Douglas felt his defences beginning to rise, his smooth voice roughened with irritation as he snapped, “Oh, for God’s sake, grow up. Not even you can _possibly_ be that naïve.”

“Douglas….”

“And can I just point out that, despite your initial statement, I have yet to hear an apology or even anything approaching such issue forth from your idiotic mouth into this flight-deck.”

Martin’s breath left his body in a shuddering rush and his head fell briefly back against the headrest of his chair. “I don’t know how to even begin to apologise, alright? I…I judged you unfairly as it turns out….”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“…and for that, I really am sorry. For what it’s worth.”

“And for taking the sanctimonious moral high-ground, Captain?”

The younger man grimaced. “Oh, come on, Douglas. If the shoe was on the other foot, what would you have thought?”

Douglas flashed a teasing grin. “If I’d walked in on you with _Carolyn_ …?”

“Oh God, I didn’t mean with Carolyn! I just meant in that situation in general!” Martin spluttered, his cheeks flaming an intense scarlet. “I mean if you thought I was married to one person and then you caught me with someone else.”

“Well, I might have, I don’t know; conceded that it was none of my damned business?”

“I _tried_ to walk away, remember? You’re the one who chased _me_ down to discuss it!”

“Because we all _work_ together, Martin. We see each other in close proximity for days at a time.” Douglas shook his head derisively. “Whatever my reservations may have been, it was impossible to simply _leave_ it.”

“I thought Carolyn insisted?”

“She did. It doesn’t mean I didn’t agree with her.”

“So why didn’t you tell me _then_ about you and Helena? Why did you leave me thinking that you were…?”

Douglas interrupted sharply, acidly. “It comes back to the small matter of it being nothing to do with you. What I choose to do and with whom is between me and the person in question, and nothing whatsoever to do with a third party.”

Martin ran a hand roughly through his hair in exasperation. “You allowed me to think the worst of you, Douglas.”

“That was _your_ pious mind jumping to conclusions. I didn’t, and _don’t_ , owe you an explanation of something you were never supposed to witness in the first place.”

The Captain’s exhalation was ragged. “The last conversation we had in regards to your wife was you telling me about your anniversary…and the next thing I know you’re…you’re….”

“ _Yes_ , Martin. Change the record, would you?”

“You could just have _said_ that you were separated; what could that _possibly_ have cost you?”

“It’s between me and Helena….”

“And Carolyn?”

“ _No_. Separate thing entirely.” Douglas exhaled capaciously. “Look, the point is, the ability of myself and Carolyn to function professionally is not even remotely in question; surely that’s all that should matter from your point of view?”

“Well, of course, but….”

“So that’s an end to it.”

“…but you let me think…you let me assume that you were just callously….”

Douglas frowned towards his Captain. “Why does that bother you so much?”

Martin’s reactive sigh was intense with anxiety. “Because it was so much the _opposite_ in reality, wasn’t it? You were the one being…wronged.”

“A gross over-simplification, I fear.”

“Is it?”

“Absolutely. Things are rarely as black-and-white as you seem to perceive them.” Douglas sighed. “I don’t want to say it again, Martin, but you really are _terribly_ naïve.”

“Well, whatever. I just made it all that much worse, whichever way you want to try and spin it.”

Douglas gave a derisive snort. “You flatter yourself, Captain.”

“Oh, believe me; I really, _really_ don’t,” Martin exhaled vehemently. “I’m just….I’m sorry, Douglas; okay? For all of it.”

The older man was silent for a protracted moment, debating the extent to which he was willing to prolong the torture of his clearly repentant colleague, before relenting with a clipped nod. “That’s that, then.”

“Good.” Martin looked clearly relieved, his features relaxing fractionally in the obsidian shadows. “Thank you.”

“We’ll say no more about it.”

The Captain paused, frowning in apparent awkwardness and taking a sharp breath as he prepared once more to speak, the words coming out in a reluctant groan as he said, “I know I’m a glutton for punishment…God _knows_ I am…but…I need to know something, Douglas….”

The First Officer raised a swift pre-emptive palm. “Don’t.”

“You don’t even know what I….”

“I can make an educated guess…and I would very much advise you _not_ to ask the question.”

“It could have an impact on….”

“I can absolutely assure you that it won’t.”

Martin drew another rapid breath. “So you _are_ planning to go on seeing each other, then?”

“Martin….”

“I know, I _know_ it’s none of my business, of course it isn’t…but if it could affect MJN….”

“Come on,” Douglas scoffed. “Do you really think Carolyn would allow that to happen? In any way, shape or form?”

“I don’t….”

“Of _course_ she wouldn’t. Aside from Arthur, MJN is her absolute priority.” Douglas made a point of pressing the intercom and addressing their colleagues remotely. “Cabin crew, prepare for landing.”

“Pre-landing checks complete.” Martin’s reply was curt and business-like before reverting to a soft sigh. “So what you’re essentially saying is….”

“I’m not saying anything, Martin. I told you not to ask.”

“…that you’re definitely….That the two of you….”

“That’s enough.”

“Well, it could be now, couldn’t it?”

“Now that I’m once more unencumbered by the chains of holy matrimony, you mean?” Douglas rolled his dark eyes in irritation and blew out his breath. “You’re trying to make this fit into a box, Captain.”

“I’m just…concerned, Douglas.”

“Well, _thank you_ , Martin.” The older pilot’s deep baritone was saturated with sarcasm, contempt etched into every syllable. “Your concern is _duly_ noted.”

The young Captain gave a shaky sigh. “And dismissed?”

“ _Summarily_ dismissed, at that.”

“Oh, fine.” Martin gestured in reluctant surrender with one hand. “Have it your way, then.”

“Don’t I always?”

“That’s not necessarily a good thing, you know.”

“On the contrary: it’s a _very_ good thing.”

“And for Carolyn?”

The First Officer’s expression darkened once more, his tone low and dangerous, the words raking across his throat. “ _Leave it_ , Martin.”

“The thing is, I…I’m not sure I can. This could….”

“You can and you will.” Douglas straightened in his chair, his eyes determinedly focussed on the instrumentation in front of him. “Now, please: let me land the damn plane in peace, would you?”

“Fine. You have control.”

The older man felt his jaw clench painfully with the effort of biting back a reactive tirade, drawing a calming breath to slow the thumping of his heart against his ribcage as he concentrated studiously on the task at hand. He had felt the atmosphere between them deteriorate steadily as their discussion had progressed, his own mind-set turning from teasing sarcasm to unmitigated vexation as Martin had clumsily alternated between faltering apology and unrepentant piety. Presently they were each stonily silent in the eerie darkness, and Douglas was thoroughly grateful for the application of controlling the aircraft, his agile mind focussed resolutely on the machine beneath his hands, the automatic procedures helping to settle his aggravation even as Martin exhaled tensely at his side. The remainder of the journey was made in a strained, edgy taciturnity, the only sounds in the flight-deck emanating from GERT-I as she screeched onto the tarmac and then slowed to an ungainly halt at her pre-determined gate.

* * *

Douglas stood beneath the powerful jets of his shower, the water sluicing across the broad planes of his body, the warm pressure caressing the tense knots of his muscles and beginning to soothe the vague ache behind his eyes. He had made a swift exit from the flight-deck some hours previously, utterly determined to give Martin no further opportunity for discussion, and after the briefest of conversations with his boss he had driven home, his irritation slowly dissipating the more miles he put between himself and the airfield. The shower had been virtually his first priority upon stepping through his front door, the layers of his uniform falling away and with it a separation of himself from his projected role, and presently he could feel the needles of water as a pleasant balm against his skin, the heat infiltrating through to his bones and imbuing his body with a drowsy glow.

Several moments later he reluctantly reached to stem the cascade, the droplets of water cooling almost instantly atop his skin as he hastily stretched to retrieve his towel and vigorously began to dry himself, his thoughts rapidly turning towards satisfying the growl of hunger emanating from his stomach. Within minutes he had wrapped his body in the comforting cotton of a t-shirt and casual trousers, his bare feet padding down the stairs and towards his living room, his features creasing in a frown as he became suddenly aware of the incessantly cheerful notes of the chime at his front door. With a grudging sigh, he changed direction and headed towards the sound, his eyebrows rising as he acknowledged the identity of his unforeseen visitor, her voluptuous body carefully hidden beneath the generous swathes of her coat.

“Oh, hello,” he intoned in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”

“Evidently,” Carolyn Knapp-Shappey replied wryly from the doorstep, appraising his informal clothing, the still-damp hair at the nape of his neck with an amused smile. “But since our esteemed Captain left the hangar this evening without so much as a by-your-leave and with a face like thunder, I thought it was high time we had a conversation.”

Douglas frowned slightly. “Did you indeed?”

“I assume you’ve had words?”

“That’s…one interpretation, yes.”

Carolyn rolled her eyes and pushed past him into the hallway without further invitation, carrying the brown paper bags she was holding into the kitchen and dumping them unceremoniously onto his work surface, along with a bottle of white wine. “Plates?” she demanded abruptly, one hand straying to the curve of her waist as she looked up at him with a characteristic impatience.

Douglas chuckled softly, his large fingers covering hers at her middle as he gently encouraged her to her right, stretching slightly to retrieve the crockery from the cupboard she had been partially obscuring and placing two dinner plates next to the aromatic bags on the counter. “Something smells good,” he remarked, the enticing scents diffusing through the paper into the room and reminding him once more of his nagging hunger, the timing of her visit appreciably fortuitous.

“Quite,” she replied crisply, reaching into a drawer to find a spoon and beginning to serve generous helpings of rice and curry onto the plates, pausing only to gesture in his direction with the implement. “Though let me make something very clear, Douglas: this does not constitute, a: me buying you dinner, or b: us _having_ dinner; understood?”

Perish the thought on either count,” he rebutted dryly, unable to stop himself from grinning at her. “Shall I open your wine?”

“ _Please_ ,” she told him emphatically, picking up their heavily laden plates and carrying them through into his dining room, her familiarity with the layout of his house warmly entertaining him as he followed closely in her wake with their drinks and took a seat opposite her across the expanse of the varnished oak.

They ate in a companionable silence for a few minutes, the rich spice of the food gradually satiating both of their appetites before eventually Carolyn sat back in her chair to regard him, her wine glass held loosely between her fingers as she took a breath to speak. “So, come on, then; what on earth is all this nonsense between you and Martin?”

Douglas exhaled heavily, his body unconsciously mirroring hers as he pushed his plate away and leant back against the geometrically patterned fabric of the seat. “You’ve been deliberately _avoiding_ talking about this for almost a week, Carolyn.”

“Oh, what rot,” the older woman scoffed, gesturing dismissively with her free hand. “We’ve been _working_ , Douglas.”

“I barely saw you in Hong Kong, if you recall.”

“And do you not think that was wise?”

“Avoiding me?”

She huffed out a sigh. “Letting things…settle.”

“Ah.” He held her gaze steadily. “And have they?”

“Well, you tell me.”

“Alright.” He took a sip of water and allowed the silence between them to elongate briefly before speaking again. “Where would you like me to start?”

“Oh, for goodness sake!” she exhaled in exasperation and jabbed a finger towards him. “So help me, Douglas, I am _rapidly_ losing my patience and I….”

“I’m simply trying to ascertain the level of detail you require for this _particular_ post-mortem, madam.”

She sighed irascibly. “Just give me the nuts-and-bolts of it. I don’t need to hear about every single syllable.”

“Fine,” he replied mildly. “Then the bottom line is that before today Martin’s default and, though this is obviously implicit, _judgemental_ position was to assume that we’re having an affair.”

Carolyn winced, her features contorting with discomfort and she took a fortifying gulp of wine. “Yes. I rather thought it might be.”

“He wasn’t terribly happy about _witnessing_ said apparent affair either. Not entirely surprisingly.”

“Well, of course not. It was a _spectacular_ lapse in judgement, Douglas.”

“I conceded as much to him, as it happens.”

“And what else did you tell him?”

The First Officer gave a broad shrug. “As little as I could get away with, naturally. And obviously I _stringently_ denied his supposition.”

“Which presumably lead to a barrage of uncomfortable questions?”

“He certainly found it rather difficult to get his head around. Particularly the concept that relationships are rarely black-and-white.”

“Hm.”

“What I _did_ get was a sanctimonious definition about what actually constitutes an affair.”

Carolyn’s smile was caustic. “Ah; well, there he was preaching to the converted, was he not?”

Douglas rolled his dark eyes. “We’ve never had an affair, Carolyn; should I be worried about your memory?”

“I didn’t mean with me, you idiot.”

He grinned widely. “Well, what can I say? I was young and stupid in those days.”

“No to the first, most _definitely_ yes to the second.”

“The point is,” he continued doggedly, deliberately ignoring her and allowing his tone to sober once more, “that _we_ are not….”

“Not _technically_ ….”

“I was quite clear to him on that.”

“And how did he react?”

“Well, funnily enough, I don’t think he believed me.” Douglas took another sip from his water. “He wanted me to give my word that it would never happen again.”

“As in…?”

“As in, in _public_ , obviously. The rest is none of his damned business, as I was quick to point out to him at length.”

Carolyn gave a soft grunt. “I bet that went down like a lead balloon.”

“Oh, he was righteously indignant about my questionable morals in a truly Martin-like way.” Douglas smiled grimly. “His naivety might actually be quite endearing if it wasn’t so pathetic.”

Carolyn inclined her head. “I suppose in his defence, he wasn’t abreast of the situation in its entirety.”

“Well, no. From his point of view, he walked in on two of his colleagues practically in flagrante and formed a natural conclusion, given what he thought were their respective marital statuses.”

She frowned and drained her wine in a single swallow, reaching for the bottle absentmindedly to refresh her glass. “This was all five days and several thousand miles ago, Douglas; what’s changed now?”

“Ah,” he intoned dryly, rising to his feet and gesturing for her to precede him into the living room, bathing the room in a warm amber light as he automatically switched on the floor lamps once across the threshold. “Well, _now_ the Captain is most _definitely_ abreast of the situation in its entirety.”

She raised a questioning eyebrow, taking a seat beside him on the couch and placing the wine bottle at her feet, her glass still held lightly between her fingers. “You told him about Helena?”

“In one.”

“Any particular reason why?”

Douglas shrugged expansively and leant back against the soft cushions. “I didn’t _plan_ on it. The conversation just naturally leant itself that way….”

“And you _let_ it?”

“I thought perhaps it was time he stopped behaving like a supercilious child and learned the truth.”

Carolyn took a generous draw from her wine and regarded him atop the crystal rim of her glass. “Whatever happened to it being none of his business?”

“It still _is_ none of his business; whatever he might like to think.”

“Oh, God,” she groaned vehemently after a beat, accurately reading the insinuation in his tone. “What did he…?”

“He wanted to know if we’re planning to go on seeing each other….”

“To which you replied…?”

“…and moreover…whether what we’re doing is quote-unquote _serious_.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she complained disapprovingly. “He sounds like something out of an American soap opera!”

“Doesn’t he, just.”

“So, what did you tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Douglas gave her a rakish grin. “I was, if I do say so myself, quite expertly evasive.”

“Well, good. That’s something, at least.”

“Though I’m not _entirely_ sure he’s going to be content to leave it alone.”

“Why?”

“Oh, something about how MJN is _doomed_ if we so much as set _eyes_ on each other ever again.”

Carolyn looked aghast. “He did _not_ say that.”

“Well, I may have paraphrased _slightly_.”

She huffed out a disapproving sigh. “I’m glad to see you’re taking this so seriously.”

He shook his head mockingly and reached to retrieve the wine bottle, pouring a lavish measure into her glass before brushing a gentle kiss of assurance across her mouth, his deep baritone soft and rich as he pulled away. “Of _course_ I’m taking it seriously.”

The older woman narrowed her cerulean eyes as she looked at him, her gaze sharp as she tried to gauge his sincerity. “You can’t fool me, Douglas.”

“I would never presume to, madam.”

“Hm,” she murmured suspiciously before settling back to sip her wine anew. “How _did_ you leave it, then, in the end?”

He smiled roguishly. “Well, like the true professional that I am….”

“Give me _strength_ ….”

“…I landed the plane. With needless-to-say my usual degree of skill and panache.”

Carolyn’s glare was fierce, her glassy soprano cuttingly acerbic. “Yes, _obviously_ you landed the plane, you clot; though equally obviously your description is highly debatable.”

“ _Is_ it, though?”

“I meant in terms of the conversation.”

“Oh, well…” He broke off briefly, content to relinquish his gentle teasing, and he made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I made it quite clear that the subject was closed. If he’s got any sense, that’ll be an end to it.”

“This is _Martin_ we’re talking about. Sense rarely comes into his approach to _anything_.”

“Even so.”

“And if he doesn’t? I don’t suppose you’ve thought of an alternative.”

“Well, what would you have me do, Carolyn?” Douglas exhaled emphatically. “I repeatedly reassured him that it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Of _course_ it’s not an issue; how could it possibly be?”

“I agree. It’s never been a problem in the past; Martin or no Martin.”

She looked at him for a long moment, trying to delve beneath his deliberately impassive expression. “You know what my priorities are, Douglas, and they are most certainly _not_ …”

“So we function exactly as we always have. It’ll be fine.”

“Yes, well…Any hint of it _not_ being fine….”

“It’ll be fine, Lyn.”

She held his gaze unflinchingly and he forced himself not to look away, his chest tightening in a vice-like compression as he tried to negotiate all of the unspoken nuances in her words, all of the forced assurances that she considered their association readily dispensable, a sentiment he had made himself reflect back at her despite the ache it left in his heart.

Momentarily he watched her drain her glass and sit back against the couch, her shoulders fractionally less tense than before, her countenance edging slightly towards relaxation, and the words escaped his mouth before he could stop them. “Are you staying?”

Carolyn gave an affected sigh and regarded him scathingly. “If I must.”

He chuckled, amused by her pretence at resistance. “Don’t feel obliged. I only asked the question.”

“I always feel obliged, you idiot. But I’ve had three glasses of wine, and I’ll be damned if I’m shelling out for a taxi.”

“Oh, bravo,” he drawled sardonically after a beat. “A most original acquiescence, madam.”

“It’s _not_ an acquiescence.”

“It sounded like one to me.”

“It’s a purely practical consideration.”

“Whatever you say.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand towards her, his smile broadening as she sighed noisily and allowed him to pull her to her feet, and then to hold her lightly in his embrace as he kissed her gently. “I seem to recall something about being on a promise, don’t you?”

She scowled up at him, though her sapphire eyes were shining in the soft light. “I remember nothing of the sort.”

“Hm,” he murmured, pretending to consider her words. “I _could_ make a comment about encroaching senility….”

“You wouldn’t _dare_ ….”

“…but I wouldn’t dare.”

“Very wise.”

He led her towards the stairs then, following in her wake as she made her ascent and allowing his eyes to wander across the ample curves of her hips, his physical attraction to her abruptly surprising him as it always did, his blood beginning to steadily heat despite the weary weight pervading his limbs. He watched her as she walked into his bedroom, reading her expectation in an instant, and he moved swiftly towards his chest of drawers, retrieving one of his t-shirts and tossing it casually onto the side of the bed closest to her. She scooped it up without a further word, silently striding into the en-suite and disappearing for several minutes.

For his part, Douglas tended to his evening ablutions before slipping blissfully beneath the luxuriant duvet of his bed, his eyes tracking Carolyn as she reappeared anew at the door, unable to prevent himself from smiling at the appealing sight of her almost completely enveloped by his shirt, the garment reaching practically to her knees and accentuating the significant difference in their statures.

She had apparently read his mind as she held up a warning finger in his direction, expressive eyes flashing dangerously even in the muted light of the room. “Not a _word_ , smug pilot.”

“There _are_ several that spring to mind, as it happens.”

“Well, keep them to yourself.”

“All of them?”

“If you value your life; yes.”

He chuckled deeply as he watched her cross the room and slip into the bed beside him, resisting the temptation to instantly enfold her in his arms and allowing her several moments to settle into comfort, his palm questioning at her hip and sliding round to the curve of her stomach as she rolled onto her side away from him.

“About that promise, Lyn…,” he murmured throatily, inhaling the scent of her skin as he pressed several tender kisses against her neck, mesmerised by the quiet intimacy of their closeness more than a need for his actions to immediately proliferate.

Carolyn tutted loudly, stretching away from him briefly to switch off the bedside lamp, and plunging the room into darkness before automatically falling back against him. “I’ve _genuinely_ no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I distinctly remember a conversation about the Windsock Arms not being the place….”

“It _absolutely_ was not the place.”

“But this could most _definitely_ be the place; and moreover _has_ been the place on more occasions than I could possibly count.”

“A _bed_ , Douglas?” she sneered mockingly. “How thoroughly and inventively original of you.”

“I can’t remember any complaints in the past, Lyn.”

Carolyn took a breath to reply but released it momentarily in reluctant surrender, rolling over onto her back with a weary groan. “Not that I don’t enjoy the back-and-forth….”

“You and me, both.”

“…and obviously I’d emerge victorious from any further argument.”

“Debatable. But let’s agree to disagree.”

“ _But_ …,” she faltered, with a disheartened sigh. “I’m tired, Douglas…”

“Lyn….”

“…and what is actually most appealing to me at this moment in time is the prospect of blessed _sleep_. Even if it _does_ have to be in a bed with you.”

He chuckled warmly, the sound reverberating richly through the expansive bones of his chest, and he stretched to brush his mouth across hers, his gesture completely devoid of any intention other than to reassure her. He was aware that for her to make such an admission of perceived weakness would have been counter-intuitive, and it made his chest flood with warmth that she felt able to allow her defences to fall in his presence, even by the tiniest of degrees.

“Sounds good to me,” he purred in relaxation momentarily as he pulled away, unable to resist leaving a proprietary arm across her ribcage.

“Really?” she queried in surprise, oddly content to lie at his side in the darkness with no intention emanating from either of them.

He tutted in mock disapproval. “Is it not within the realms of possibility that I might also be tired? I _did_ just fly a plane half way around the world and back again.”

“And of course you did that _entirely_ single-handedly.”

“I might as well have done.”

“Oh, don’t talk rubbish.”

“Anyway,” he yawned loudly. “It’s always good to have at least one promise in the bag for future redemption at any time or place of my choosing.”

“That’s not how it works, cretin.”

“ _Isn’t_ it?”

“Shall we re-visit the rules of this little arrangement, just to refresh your failing memory?”

“Hm,” he replied mildly. “As far as I can recall, said arrangement has never involved simply _sleeping_ together in the literal sense…”

“Yes, well. Call it an aberration; never to be repeated.”

He smiled into the obsidian grey, sensing the undercurrent of self-preserving fallacy in her words and feeling it ignite a tiny spark of hope in his heart. “Suit yourself.”

“Now, _that_ goes without saying.”

He gave a brief affectionate laugh. “Good night, Lyn.”

“Good night, Douglas.”

He felt her shift onto her side once more as she evidently tried to sink into relaxation, her body becoming heavier against him as the tension ebbed from her limbs, and he encouraged her further towards his chest, a sudden need to feel the breath circulating through her intense in his mind. It was in equal measure terrifying and gratifying that he felt almost completely at ease, and it occurred to him that he could easily become addicted, an unpleasant memory jolting him suddenly from his uncertain pondering and her name had left his lips before he could stop it. “Lyn?”

“Go to sleep,” she murmured grumpily, her words partially muffled by the duvet pulled snugly up around her chin.

“What you said on the flight,” he continued unperturbed, “about…being interested in meeting someone….”

She groaned deeply and turned her face further towards the pillow. “I’m not talking about this now.”

“You meant it, then?”

She sighed softly, covering his hand with her own and caressing his knuckles with an uncharacteristic gentleness. “Go to sleep,” she reiterated without rancour, and he felt an unexpected sense of relief wash over him, squeezing her hand before forcing himself to release her.

Within several moments he could feel himself beginning to surrender to the siren call of unconsciousness, the hazy notion that he would make love to her slowly and unhurriedly upon waking both unsettling and thrilling him, the very language his mind had chosen for the thought disconcerting in its brutally uncensored truth. _I don’t want her to be with anyone else_ , he mused drowsily, his weary brain unable to stop the honest conception as it formed as a whole entity behind his eyes. _Simple as that_. He was determinedly unwilling to examine the construct further, forcing it ruthlessly from his mind and allowing the steadily rhythmical sound of her breathing to lull him into a blissful, dreamless slumber.

FIN


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